Molly the Crazy Cat Lady
by Patrick the Stump
Summary: When I look at my Great-Great-Aunt Muriel, who's possibly verging on seven billion years old by now, I always conclude that that's what I'm going to end up like; except I'll be much worse, because I'll have cats. - MollyII/Teddy


Sadly, I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters

**Challenge**: Romantic Prompt challenge by AngelicKat445

**Prompts:** Tabby Cat, Rouge and Champagne

**Ship**: MollyIITeddy

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><p><span>Molly the Crazy Cat Lady<span>

Family parties – some of the most depressing moments of my very short existence. Probably because these are the rare occasions I see my Great-Great Aunt Muriel, who according to James, just refuses to die. When I look at my Aunt Muriel, who is possibly verging on about seven billion years old, I always conclude that _that_ is what I'm going to end up like; except I'll be much worse, because I'll have cats.

As if to prove a point, my purple Tabby Cat, Parma, decided to skulk over, looking suspicious. If you're wondering why my cat's purple, just go ask my sister. I'm sure she'll be able to explain in much more detail how she 'accidentally' dropped Parma into a vat of irreversible colour change potion. I picked up Parma by the scruff of her neck, and pulled her onto my knee, taking her face in my hands.

"What've you been up to, eh?" I asked Parma sweetly; my cat's affection was the only sort I was going to get tonight.

Parma let out a high-pitched meow, and nuzzled into my stomach. I stroked her ears gently, closing my eyes and just wishing I could go to sleep. It had been a long day; I always wondered why mum insisted on hosting the parties, it only stressed her out.

I was sat in the shadows of the porch, wallowing in my sadness – yeh, it was one of those days. I glanced around, registering who was actually at the darn party anyway. James was snogging his latest girlfriend in the corner furthest away from me, Rose was bickering with Scorpius, Al was trying to stop Rose bickering with Scorpius, most of the boys were passing a battered quaffle haphazardly between them, and then there was Teddy. Teddy, who was standing right in the middle of it all, the centre of attention without even trying. He was the perfect picture of ease, radiating happiness and warmth, while I could only skulk in the corner and hide behind my own shadow.

"Rouge," said a voice behind me, and I turned to see my favourite, and sometimes my least favourite, cousin twirling her cropped hair.

"Excuse me?" I asked Dominique, as she sat beside me.

"Teddy's hair, it's rouge today. I'd have thought that you of all people would've noticed," she smirked. It was times like this that I knew she belonged in Slytherin, however much I wished she'd been sorted into Ravenclaw like me and her brother.

"No Dom, it's red," I told her pointedly, not in the mood for any of her riddles or not-so-sweet nothings.

"Rouge," she muttered again, "It sounds so much nicer in French. Suits him, don't you think?"

I refused to answer, but she continued offhandedly "You want him, don't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, hoping that the blush on my face wasn't reflected in my voice.

"Oh I think you - " Dom started, but stopped as my mum ran towards me, her arms flailing around like the sky was falling, or something along those lines.

"Molly, we've ran out of cheese-cubes!" she cried hysterically, "I just walked past the table, and the bowl was empty. I knew I didn't make enough, oh Merlin! Would you be an angel and make more cheese-cubes, darling?" She turned to where Dominique had been sitting a moment ago, but she was already slinking away.

"Yeh mum, I'll go make some more, don't panic," I smiled at her reassuringly, standing up, happy to be away from Dominique's probing questions.

I knew Dom was right, of course. I _did_ want Teddy; I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything in my entire life. And I had him too, sometimes. We'd kissed before, and once, just once, he'd told me that he loved me. But it had always been in private. It had always been our little secret. He'd tell me I deserved so much better, so much more, and how he was just so wrong for me. And then he'd kiss me, and I'd wonder how he could even consider something so amazing to ever be anything but wonderfully and utterly right.

I walked quietly into the kitchen; a fleeting thought rushing through my head as I passed the drinks table. Right there, on the wooden surface, was a bottle of champagne. I walked towards it, tracing my fingers along the outside of its greenish hue. Alcohol changed people, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Maybe, just maybe, with this little bottle of champagne, I could finally get the attention I'd always wanted – needed – deserved. I could be confident and cocky like Victoire, I could be dangerous like Dom, funny like Lucy, fiery like Rose. Maybe, with just a swig, I could be better than all my cousins put together. I would be the best – something that was just about damn impossible in a family as big as my own. I'd grabbed a corkscrew out of the draw and a glass from the cupboard before I'd even consciously made my decision, and I was just about to pull out the cork when I felt a pair of familiar arms on my hips.

"Don't even think about it," muttered Teddy, his lips brushing my ear and sending shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes and he coaxed the corkscrew out of my hand.

"Why?" I asked, sounding like a curious, naive child.

"Because I don't want to be the one that has to explain to your parents when you're at St Mungo's getting your stomach pumped. You're only sixteen, Molly," he reminded me, like I needed reminding.

"What about you? You're drinking," I asked spinning round, "I still don't see the difference. Three years, Teddy, it's nothing." I sounded pathetic.

"Three years is a lot," he told me, closing his own eyes as his breaths began to deepen. He rested his forehead against mine, his nose brushing against my own, but our lips remained separated, apart by mere millimetres.

"Three years is too much," his mouth met mine and his last words were blurred into one. His lips were bittersweet, tender and impatient and angry. He was always angry when I was around, though I was never sure why. I'd asked him; he was angry with himself, not me, apparently. I never really understood why he beat himself up over _us._ I didn't see anything wrong with us, nothing at all. However, he did, and he made this evident a moment later as he pulled away, bowing his head.

He ran a hand through his red hair. The word rouge echoed through my mind again.

"Someone will see," he said, turning away to rest against the granite worktop.

"So what?" I said, Teddy's kiss having the same affect as I'd hoped the champagne would. I was a little braver, at least.

"What do you mean, so what?" spat Teddy, "Imagine your dads face! He'd kill me – you're sixteen, Molly."

"Yes, and you're nineteen. Just get it through your head, Teddy. It's three years, stop making such a big deal out of it," I told him, anger boiling up inside of me.

" – And the trouble it'd cause with Vic. We dated for a year; I can't imagine that she'd be very happy with the whole the whole thing," Teddy said.

Like I needed reminding about Victoire. Oh yes, he'd dated Victoire. Perfect, beautiful, amazing Victoire. He was totally fine with dating _her_. But me? No, stolen kisses and many nights spent desperately dreaming, that's all I'd ever have.

"Teddy, I need to tell my family. We can't sneak around forever. We either tell them, or we…" I trailed off. He was expecting me to say 'or we can't be together', but we both knew that was a lie. Whichever way it went, I knew that _that_ kiss wouldn't be our last.

He turned away, about to walk out the door, but I wouldn't let him get away that easy.

"You're just afraid," I told him, and he stiffened.

"I am not afraid," he retorted, puffing out his chest.

"Then why won't you do it?" I asked logically, raising one eyebrow quizzically.

"Well – it's just…" he started, looking around the room, as if he was going to find an answer floating in the air.

I was too impatient to wait very long, "Do you have a reason yet?" I asked him, and he shrugged.

"Hundreds," he told me, "but they're all incredibly dim, so I guess we're going to have to do this." To my amazement, he almost looked excited. Either that, or he was about to throw up.

"Can I hear one of your incredibly dim reasons?" I asked, as he took hold of my hand.

"Well, I might trip over and bang my head on a rock and die," he told me, looking embarrassed.

"True," I nodded as I placed my hand on the door handle, "Just be careful, then. And watch your step."

I glanced out of the window, catching sight of Parma, who I'd abandoned earlier, still looking displeased.

Maybe, just maybe, I thought as I pushed open the door, I wouldn't end up being Molly the Crazy Cat Lady after all.

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><p><strong>AN**: Thank you for reading. Reviews make my world, so please let me know what you think.


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